


Alfie

by BunnyThatFlies



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Actual tags now, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Porn Without Plot, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bottom England (Hetalia), Bruises and Bitemarks, Dom/sub, Forgive author, Hand Jobs, Human & Country Names Used, It was supposed to be short and smutty, M/M, Mentioned past FrUK, Mentioned past GerUK, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, PWP, Pain Kink, Pining, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Prostate Massage, S&M, Strength Kink, The porn doesn't start til over halfway through the fic, Top America (Hetalia), not this, oh god., okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyThatFlies/pseuds/BunnyThatFlies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England decides to visit America after a revelation, hoping to improve their relationship. It goes a little out of hand, but that's just how England likes it.</p><p>Or</p><p>Very long Porn With Plot oneshot, where England eventually gets what he's wanted for centuries without paying attention to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alfie

**Author's Note:**

> So.
> 
> Welcome to this huge ass one shot I tried to write.
> 
> Please note that I attempted PWP, and failed epically. There's more plot than porn in this and I'm ashamed. 
> 
> I tried.
> 
> It was supposed to be so much shorter than this.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> (Also sorta my first time writing full on smut, not poetic smut...*coughs slightly* that omegaverse one... *coughs again* what????)

Having known the fellow nation (in his current state) since, well, that one day... England was sure this was a situation he'd never find himself in.

Yeah. That kind of situation, one he might find himself in with France after a few drinks, or maybe even Germany. If they were drunk enough that is. But definitely not America. Or at least, not a few weeks ago anyway.

If England thought about it (which was difficult in itself given his current disposition), it had started around Christmas.

* * *

As per annum, America had decided to throw one of his ridiculously overdone parties at his penthouse in New York. The invitation was sent to England's home, like every other year, and it looked exactly the same as it did every year.

But something stopped England from tearing it up like he did every year. The envelope felt too heavy, the paper thicker than normal and the writing of the address looked a lot more neat and as though time had actually been spent on it.

Curious, he opened it to find not an invitation, but a very short yet eloquent letter, detailing why America thought England should come this year. Of course, it wasn't friendly. But it was a change, and so with change in mind, he decided against his better judgment to go for once. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

So that night, England packed some clothes he deemed fit for a party (involving tight black jeans, a Union Jack shirt, some Doc Martens and a leather jacket, because he missed his punk era) and some casual clothes for the rest of the time he'd be spending the festive season in the city that never sleeps. Resolving to buy presents over the pond instead of paying extra for more suitcases, England booked his ticket with the airline and promptly decided to sleep on his decision.

The next morning had been a rush of airports, people and luggage, taxis and raging cyclists and hotel lifts. Having settled into his hotel room, England went out and bought presents, still not having told America of his agreement to come. Well. He should've felt it the moment England set foot on his land, so if he didn't know, it was his own fault.

Having bought all the necessary necessities, he'd returned to his hotel room, thoroughly tired out from venturing through the bustling city in the rush of the Christmas buying panic. It was much worse than it was in London, and he caught himself regretting buying it all over here instead of in his own country, but hind sight was a wonderful thing after all.

The hotel was comfortable enough, and he soon fell asleep, not fully looking forward to Christmas Eve the next day.

Waking up on the day of the party wasn't fun. Sporting a headache from the noise of the city he wasn't used to during his sleep, a call on his phone simply aggravated the nation to no end. Answering the phone call he was, however, very surprised to hear America's overly excited tone shouting at him through his phone's speakers.

They had a short discussion about America's happiness due to his attendance and about the weather. England wasn't known for his polite conversation, so it was difficult for him, especially when the other was being so unnaturally kind to him. He put it down to it being the season of giving and after hanging up, he slapped himself across the face for smiling softly. He'd gotten over America about 50 years ago, he wasn't prepared to let himself slip back into the secretly pining deviant he had become.

Doing some paperwork for the majority of his spare time that day, holed up in his hotel room, England began to get prepared for the party at 5:00. It wasn't due to start until 8:00, and so that gave him ample time to wrap presents, change and get to the penthouse about half an hour late so he didn't look eager.

Donned in his 'punkish' attire, he hailed a taxi to the apartment complex where America's penthouse was and sat, with a small bag of presents that felt just too odd for it to be okay. He payed the taxi driver fairly, giving him a larger tip than normal due to the season and swiftly exited the cab. The complex was daunting, but it was definitely the right one, considering the lights and noises coming from the large top apartment that reached pavement level from so far above.

Entering the complex made England gape in awe. The reception was absolutely beautiful, and he was almost content to just stay down there. But shaking his head, he smiled at the lady on the desk politely and wished her a merry Christmas before heading to a lift and making his way to the penthouse.

The closer he got to the top, the more prevelant the party became. It made him slightly self-conscious, the rumbling of the music deep and rattling. Although he supposed being a country gave America certain rites of way which others did not have. Unsure of the protocol considering Christmas parties, England simply walked through the door when the lift opened, and once again was left to gape. The penthouse was much more beautiful than the reception, with full sized windows surrounding the external walls, there was a very large panoramic view of the city outside, and the sky twinkling with city lights instead of the stars he so loved to gaze up at when in somewhere like the fields of Somerset so far from glaring city life. People were milling around, dancing, drinking and telling stories beneath glistening fairy lights that had been strung up on the rafters. Mistletoe hung in doorways where couples kissed beneath, laughter echoing over the loud and modern music playing in the background, a large Christmas tree in the centre of the festivities. A bar was off to the side, with a multitude of different bottles of brightly coloured alcohol, a few countries grouping around that area obviously. Despite making England slightly nauseous, it gave himself a small sense of nostalgia, reminding him of the good years of the '80s in which he went to many parties like this, but never America's.

Instead of standing in the entrance of the penthouse, he wandered in, surveying the area for a face he felt welcome with, which was a difficult task in itself without the party. Seeing the many presents beneath the tree, England placed his with them before straightening at the loss of the added weight and making his way to an empty spot by one of the gigantic windows overlooking NYC. Almost childlike, he pressed against the cool glass, letting a smile paint over his face as he watched the tiny cars below race around the streets narrowly avoiding the ant sized people on the pavements. There was something much more all-encompassing about doing this here versus London, the sheer size of the city and skyscape so much larger than that of his capital. It sent a cold shiver down his spine, making him feel small and insignificant against the other nation, but it wasn't a feeling he was totally against despite how he should've been.

Turning around, he observed his fellow countries for a little while before he was approached rather quickly by a blonde-haired mass of lights. Confused, England let his eyes focus on the shining thing in front of him before realising it was the host nation, in a ridiculous Christmas jumper that made him laugh slightly.

"Hey Iggy, I'm so happy you came!" America shouted over the ruckus of the party, grinning widely as he always did. His eyes sparkled with a childlike excitement, his arms shifting every now and then as though he wanted to hug the fellow nation. It was a very funny sight, and with the small amount of alcohol he had consumed from the small glass he had gained from the bartender a few moments before, it made everything just a little more relaxed.

"Makes a change, America!" England yelled back, crossing his arms over his chest after setting down his glass and giving America a rare smile, feeling in a good mood. The alcohol was obviously getting to him, but he didn't mind, it was giving him a brief respite he normally didn't have due to the stressful work conditions he was under. "You sure know how to throw a party huh?!"

America's grin slackened, voice going soft. So soft that England had to strain his ears to hear what the other was saying. "You'd have known that earlier, had you come to one of my parties before, Arthur..." A sad smile replaced the grin previously painting his face. "I understand though, it's hard for you isn't it?"

Frozen in place, England simply stared at the other nation. He called him by his human name... He hadn't done that since he was still England's colony. Hating to admit it, it sent another one of those shivers down his spine, forcing the elder to look away. "Alfred, you know I'm sorry... Don't guilt trip me into making some sort of change now,"

The party had taken a turn for the worst. Maybe he shouldn't have come at all, if he was going to be faced with an America with whom he couldn't keep his walls up to hide behind. He turned away, looking back out into the city, hands pressing against the glass.

"Do you...wanna get out for a moment?" America muttered behind him, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous or embarrassed. As England turned to look at him, he wouldn't meet his eyes but pointed to a door leading onto a mostly empty balcony.

Pondering this for a moment, England nodded. "I suppose I could do with some fresh air...." He made his way towards the glass door, gently opening it and letting a cool gush wash over him as he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the city. Following him quietly, America shut it behind him before sighing. The glass seemed to vibrate with the sheer amount of noise from inside, but both nations took to ignoring the on-going party. It was almost quiet, compared to the inside of the penthouse, and it was too painfully obvious.

An awkward cough made England look towards America, tilting his head slightly. "You know, I wanted to say that... Well... I suppose I'm sorry," America muttered, staring directly into England's emerald eyes, hand on his neck again. England had started to count how many times the other had shocked him in one day, and it was quickly getting close to double digits.

"Alfred, what's wrong with you?" He blurted out before he could think about how that sounded, shocked by himself for once. It sounded harsh, harsher than he normally was, cold even. England tried to convey through his eyes that he didn't mean it that way, not quite trusting his voice.

Silence. America didn't answer, but began to walk towards him slowly. It reminded England of the way a predator would stalk it's prey, but the look in those bright blue eyes said otherwise. "... I miss you," he said eventually, once he had England pressed against the high barrier of the balcony, arms trapping him there. "I'm sorry for leaving you like I did, for making a friendship difficult,"

The breath that England had in his lungs had completely disappeared, replaced with a heavy and painful feeling that he knew would linger for a long time. "Y-you what...? No, I c-can't listen to this..." And with that, he quickly dodged out of America's hold over him and ran back into the penthouse, disappearing into the mob of dancers and merry-goers.

* * *

As it was a couple of weeks later, England had found himself back in the Land of the Free, an impulsive decision made at 4 in the morning. The plane journey was long and allowed his thoughts to race as he wondered why he did this.

The journey to America's New York penthouse via taxi wasn't pleasant, the traffic being horrendous and the taxi driver being way too loud and filled with road rage. Once he did finally get to his destination, he refused to pay any tips, and left the taxi driver to curse off his British stubbornness.

The reception lady seemed to recognise him, smiling and holding up a hand in welcome. Smiling softly in return, he stepped into the lift, once again pressing the button for the top floor as though in déjà vu. The lift was very smooth this time round however, without throbbing techno music blaring, and England found this made it harder to suppress the worry building in him.

When the lift dinged open, he stepped out and stood in front of the penthouse door, fist raised to knock but not quite connecting just yet. What was he doing here? This was a stupid idea and he knew it.

But he had decided to do it, and he wasn't willing to give up at the last straw due to cowardice. Taking a deep breath, England knocked rhythmically on the door and settled himself into a casual stance so as to not look awkward. He set his face to nonchalant, but he knew his eyes would give him away should the younger nation look into them.

The door slowly creaked open, America stood in the doorway as he looked in shock down at the shorter nation. "England? Why are you here?" He asked, cup of coffee in hand and looking perfectly at home against the modern background of his New York abode. Donning a simple white tee shirt and a pair of casual jeans, his hair slightly tousled as though he'd just woken up (which he probably had), England would be damned to say he didn't look good.

"Way to make me feel welcome... I came to see you, of course. Are you going to let me in, or should I just stand in the corridor for the week?" He murmured, looking at the floor to avoid facing America's confused gaze.

"... The week?" America said, even more shocked. "Wait wait, you came here for the week, and expect to stay with me in my apartment?"

Frowning, England's head snapped back up to glare at him. "Yes, exactly that. You said you missed me, so I came to help that," the older nation crossed his arms, as if to prove a point, and looked pointedly into the apartment as if waiting to be let in. "It's not like you don't have space, and you have plenty of time on your hands. Nothing is happening at the moment, so indulge me Alfred,"

The look that flickered across America's face at that last sentence was reminiscent of the look he had on the balcony at Christmas, that shiver that England only ever felt around the other returning. He didn't like it, but he was intrigued by it. "Yeah, indulge you. Come in then. I suppose I have no choice," he moved out of his way, holding the door open for him.

"Yeah, you'd be right about that. So... How... Have you been?" England asked, dropping his bag on the floor and putting his hands on his hips. "I suppose you've been fine. You look fine..."

Instead of answering, the blue eyed nation put his coffee cup down on the counter, and took a hold of his upper arms. Again, England was trapped within the other's hold, and he couldn't do much about it. "Why are you here, really? You're acting weird and you're worrying me Arthur..."

"Alfred..." A small blush had painted his cheeks, from being forced to be so close to him. "I thought about what you said... At the party. I realised that maybe I missed you too, and that I was sorry as well. I also wondered if maybe we could become closer... Because I want something with you," there was no point in lying, his thoughts from 4 am and the plane still vivid in his head.

America's hold on him tightened, his fingers digging so deep into England's arms that he knew there would be bruises. "And what do you mean by that? Why did you run away on the balcony? Is this a game to you England? Messing with my feelings to give you shits and giggles?" Clearly angry, England had to admit he wasn't exactly thrilled to be in this position.

"Alfred no, I... I just... Thought you might want it like I do..." He stammered, beginning to panic that he'd now said the wrong thing. It was a long shot to begin with, so he wasn't at all surprised. "I panicked, fled because I didn't know what I was feeling. But I think I know now, and I want to try... Alfred,"

"... Not now. Go and put your stuff away in the room opposite the bathroom," America ordered, letting go of the smaller blonde and sitting on the couch with the remote in his hand. "I'll take you out after, might as well start from the beginning,"

With that air of finality, England nodded and pulled his suitcase to the room he'd be in for the week. He was very much confused, both by America's and his own reactions, hands shaking slightly and breath shallower than normal. What was with him? Why couldn't he keep up those walls? Why was he so... Compliant towards him?

The room was simple enough, the walls painted a calming grey purple, with a double bed centered against the wall covered with black sheets and white pillow covers. A wardrobe stood opposite the bed, tall and impeding, but increasing the space due to the mirrored surfaces. A large window, much like the ones in the main living area encompassed one wall, looking over the bustling city. Dark grey curtains hung to both sides of the window, and were tied back by white tassels. It was odd, completely different to the ambience of the other rooms, as though it was made to be different. He shrugged off the feeling, unpacking his clothes and putting his stuff in a bedside chest drawer.

The bed was soft and plush, very comfortable. England smiled a little, smoothing out the bedsheets slightly and heading back out to where America was. It had been quite a long time since they had been truly alone with each other, and the last time had not ended well. Admittedly, they were both acting completely different this time around, so there wasn't much England could predict. He wondered what America's idea of going out consisted of, whether he meant to McDonalds or some baseball match or something.

"Hey, you weren't long," America smiled, patting the seat on the sofa beside him invitingly. England refused to meet his eyes but sat as was asked. "I need to go and get ready, but then we can go wherever you want. It's totally up to you,"

Crossing his legs, England smiled softly, not expecting that. "Thanks, but what are you waiting for?" He inquired, referring to the fact that the nation hadn't left to get ready yet, simply watching the Brit.

Laughing a bit, America stood and left to his room, changing quickly and sorting out his hair before walking to the door. "Come on then Iggy, where are we going?" England allowed himself a few seconds to survey what the other looked like, finding himself pleasantly surprised. America was wearing a simple dark blue plaid shirt, and a much smarter pair of jeans. He looked nice, causing him to blush a little at his thoughts. Although this was sort of the whole reason he was here, it was still embarrassing for him to let his thoughts wander those depths.

"Mhmm, coming," he responded, standing and making his way over to the door as well. He had an idea of where he wanted to go, and quietly mentioned it to America. He received a short laugh, making his blush deepen. "Hey, that's not fair. You're exactly like this when you come to... When you used to come to my house,"

The American's smile dropped straight away, a frown replacing it. "Don't start Arthur. Not now, I thought we were trying to mend us," he scolded, without any malice, gently pushing England to the lift.

* * *

Their day was calm. Arthur had asked if they could go to the zoo, simply because he wanted a break from the large city buildings, and also because he just wanted to act normal for once. It was a reasonable excuse to spend time somewhere he knew Alfred would love, and the way America acted during their visit was horrifyingly endearing. Maybe England was too deep, but centuries of wishing to have something with America again didn't just disappear in 5 decades.

By the time they left, it was beginning to get dark, and holding a small lion plushie, England was happy. The outing had gone quite nicely, he even got to feed the penguins in one of the tour events.

It was odd, for him to relax enough to actually do anything like this, but he felt comfortable to do it, so why shouldn't he? He put it down to something about forming relationships being beneficial for a person's mental well-being and didn't analyse it any further.

"Hey, Arthur?" America started, staring up at the evening sky thoughtfully, not watching where he was going in the slightest and gently bumping against England in the process. "I had fun, thank you," and he turned to flash a very large, genuine smile to the shorter nation, and England found himself wishing he'd taken a photo to be able to fully appreciate the way that smile brightened up the city a little more.

"Y-you're welcome," the green eyed Brit answered, looking at the small lion in his hands. America had insisted on getting him a momento, and it was the thing that England couldn't hide wanting. After all, lions were on his crest of arms. Although it was $8, America just wouldn't take no for an answer and he was forced to resign into submission in this argument. It was nice, a very kind thing for the other to do, and it warmed his heart and made it beat faster.

The American visibly sighed in relief, wrapping an arm over England's shoulders as though it was second nature to them both. Arthur found the breath in his lungs disappear again, unable to comprehend what he should do in response. Doing nothing, not even acknowledging it, he gripped the lion tighter in his hold and just let the other country do as he wished. Sure, it was strange, but it wasn't something he was averse to. Quite the opposite actually, it felt nice and secure, something he wasn't used to recently. He did admit he had been on edge recently, current world affairs and issues plaguing his every thought more than he remembered it doing (which of course could be due to the fact that he had forgotten how bad it could get).

They walked back to the apartment complex, taking a leisurely stroll through the blocks and skyscrapers of the city, occasionally swapping casual small talk. Things like the weather, how their bosses were doing, anything of interest happening in their countries. England dared to think it was nice, but he knew better than to voice such an opinion. Or did he? Maybe with how they both were attempting this new thing, it would be a good idea to mention it to the American.

"Hey America...?" England started, looking at his feet in thought and to keep him from having to look at the other. "I mean, Alfred. I had fun today as well, so thanks to you too," he smiled, looking at him after a moment.

What happened next truly surprised him. America turned away, staring at the sunset, but his arm slid off his shoulders and his hand gently bumped into England's before holding it and intertwining their fingers.

A pure feeling of shock overwhelmed England, but he couldn't pull away. A small jolt of electricity seemed to cross between their fingers, cementing them together and giving his heart a reboot. It was odd, to say the least, how it gave him such a warm feeling, and he found he didn't want to let go.

"I'm glad Arthur," America replied, giving his hand a momentary squeeze before falling silent and continuing their walk calmly as though he hadn't just made England's heart stop for a moment.

* * *

After they got back to the apartment, America let go of his hand to make them a drink, but England found himself wishing he hadn't. Instead of dwelling on that fact, he made himself comfortable on the couch, content to look around the sitting room from his seat. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, plush and springy but not too soft. A massive TV was suspended on the wall, and knowing America, he assumed it was probably a 3D LED HD TV or whatever they were.

A few minutes later, a cup of tea was handed to him before the other nation less-than-gracefully flopped beside him, causing England to shield his tea lest it get spilt. "Could you be more careful?" He muttered, sipping the hot liquid slowly before licking his lips in appreciation.

".... Uh, sure..." America replied after a moment of pause. Looking at him, the Brit was on the receiving end of an odd look, making him feel a little self-conscious. "You know, you could get more comfortable," he gestured at the polite position the other was sat in, as though he should move into a different position.

When the green eyed nation didn't move, America simply sighed before putting their cups on the table and pulling England against him so he had his head on his chest and his legs on the couch. "Wh-what are you doing?!" England exclaimed, shocked at both being so easily manhandled and also from the heat and electricity coursing through his body. "L-let me go!"

"We both know that's not what you want, Arthur..." The American whispered in his ear, sending shudders down his spine. "Just let me hold you..."

The Brit eventually relaxed, not without a bright red face, crossing his legs over on the couch. "Why? Why do you want to hold me?" He asked, tilting his head back a little to look up at the other, deep set confusion and maybe hope glittering in his eyes.

"... We aren't having this conversation now," America stated, wrapping an arm over England's waist, his other hand gently carding through his straw-blonde hair. He felt himself shudder again, the hand in his hair suggesting a much stronger power than was being shown. He'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him just a little, just enough to coerce him into biting his lip in concentration.

"Why can't we? I want to know, Alfred... What's going on in your head?" He asked quietly, determined to find out what was happening and why. He demanded knowledge, trying his hardest to give America a warm look, as though reassuring him that he'd listen and try not to judge him for it (he never truly did, even when he said he did. His cold hearted façade was simply for show).

The taller nation sighed once more, avoiding meeting eyes with England. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out, or leave the country or whatever, understood?" He breathed out, the hand in his hair gripping onto it a little harder, from threat or nervousness Arthur couldn't decipher. But either way, it felt good.

"I promise, Alfred," England smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, the position they were in and the curiosity making him a little wary.

Coughing a bit, America, if possible, looked away even more, staring out of the window revealing the large expanse of the city they were in. "You know, ever since I was your colony, there was something different I felt about you. Like, I never felt that way about any of the village kids, any of my bosses, always just you. I didn't know what it was until I was a teenager... Well, you can probably guess. But, I didn't want to feel that for you, you were in control of me, you oppressed me. I thought the right thing to do was to leave you, become your equal and then maybe, just maybe, I'd have a chance, and you'd treat me right. I guess I tried too hard, and became stronger than I thought I would... And I also took my time. I became greedy, wanting to be better than you so I could take care of you instead..." He paused, taking a breath to calm himself. England couldn't believe what he was hearing, but was stunned into silence for once, mouth shut tight in a firm line as his thoughts processed. "It was a selfish wish, still is. But I guess we hurt each other in the process, huh?" America bit his lip, turning his gaze back to the country resting against him. "So? Are you gonna slap me? Or kiss me? Or... I don't know, do nothing?"

Still under shock, England wasn't sure he trusted his voice not to squeak if he spoke. All these centuries of pining for the American, and it was all mutual in the first place? What a waste of time! They could have resolved this so long ago... Well, maybe they couldn't, considering the way things were back then about these things. It would've been extremely taboo. So instead of talking, England sat up from the position he was in, hands gently placed on the cheeks of the other nation and kissed him softly, answering his question simply.

It was a gentle kiss to begin with, America quick to join in after England started, strong arms wrapping themselves around his waist. Before he knew what was happening, the Brit felt himself pulled onto America's lap confidently, still held in those arms he couldn't help but admire. It wasn't long before the kiss became heated, Arthur gently biting Alfred's bottom lip to coax a noise from the man. It didn't work, he simply returned the favour but with more force, causing England to gasp silently. This then started a fight for dominance over his mouth, to which he lost against America's much stronger tongue. He explored every inch of the green eyed nation's mouth slowly, as if he was mapping out the whole area to memory.

During all of this, America's hands slowly slid down the Brit's sides, hooking his thumbs under the shirt he was wearing. A short breath left England's lips, the gentle press of the other's thumbs into his hips purely exciting and arousing, the simple suggestion of more strength sending a shiver through his body. Alfred's fingers then moved to the buttons, popping each one slowly, letting his hands glide over each area of newly revealed skin tantalisingly. Any worries England had about how quickly things had escalated disappeared when Alfred's lips left his, moving down to his rather sensitive neck. God, did it feel good.

America began to gently suck on England's sweet spot, eliciting a moan from the latter that caused heat to pool in Alfred's lower regions. Continuing to luxuriously suck on the skin of his neck, his hands moved up to softly graze over pert nipples, resulting in a loud gasp and a bitten lip. "A-Alfred..." England murmured, eyes closed in pleasure. It had been too long since he had a bed partner, so his body was much more responsive than it should be.

"Hmm... You know, if you'd said to me a few months ago that you'd be here now, so needy and breathless for me, I'd probably laugh at you," Alfred whispered in England's ear as he picked him up, the latter's arms wrapping around his neck leisurely.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped the Brit, raising an eyebrow. "It seems you don't usually need an excuse to laugh at me, though," England pointed out, shifting a little when America opened his bedroom door. "But I don't mind, even though your laugh is highly irritating, it does make me happy," Arthur began to wonder if he was saying things he shouldn't. It'd only been a day, and already this? Well, it's not like the unresolved sexual tension hadn't been there for a few centuries, and his unrequited love was suddenly requited. Maybe it wasn't so odd for him to be acting, well, odd.

America gently placed the other on the bed, looking at him a little strangely. "You need to stop thinking for a moment Artie, it's not going to help you any," his hand gently moved a piece of hair out of his green eyes, smiling calmly. "Just do and say what feels right," he breathed into his ear slowly, sending luxurious shivers down England's spine.

"D-don't say it l-like that, idiot..." England retorted, pulling the younger nation closer by his shirt before tugging on it as if to take it off. Realising what he wanted, America laughed softly and pulled it off, before holding onto his wrists and successfully trapping him beneath him.

* * *

So here he was, completely at the mercy of his once-colony, his hands tight around his wrists and pressing him into the soft mattress, those fingers resonating a strength that made England's back arch just a little, and set his nerves on edge.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the strength Alfred had, the power he held over him. Although he was most certainly reluctant to admit it, after all he was once just as powerful, if not more so. How was he supposed to bow down to America's dominance without so much as denying its existence?

Now wasn't the time to think though, like the blue eyed nation had said. It was distracting, to say the least, to be thinking of such trivial things as to why he found a certain thing about him arousing, instead of just letting himself be carelessly aroused by it. And although he wanted to just melt into the mattress and let Alfred have his way with him, sending his nerves numb and his mind blank, he just couldn't. 

He was sure that he didn't plan it to go this way. England wanted to spend time with America, get to know him better and then maybe they could be friends. Not this, he hadn't expected to fall back in... Adoration, for him. He also hadn't expected the feelings to be reciprocated, but the biggest shock was this. Sex? No, he didn't factor this in, despite subconsciously knowing he'd want it.

Hmm. Maybe that was it. Maybe he had expected it after all.

"Honestly, Arthur, stop spacing out," Alfred whined like a petulant child, squeezing a little harder on England's wrists, bringing forth a solid, shaking moan that had been stuck in his throat for a little while which made the country above him flush a bit. "It's as though I'm not good enough,"

More shock, then. The American always seemed so sure of himself that those words sounded alien companied with his voice. "N-no, I'm sorry, I j-just can't stop thinking..." England replied, biting his lip in embarrassment. Did he just stutter? Was he going mad? 

"Well I really wish you would, you might actually enjoy yourself," he leaned down, whispering above his head before pressing their lips together, restarting the kiss from earlier. And damn, America was a good kisser, England mused, wriggling slightly in an attempt to free his hands. He wanted to touch, to feel. But he couldn't. If anything, that iron like grip increased, and despite knowing he could take it, the fear of his wrists breaking became a desire to be broken by his sheer strength.

Breaking the kiss, America smirked down at the smaller nation. "Hmm, if I'm right, it sounds as though you like this position..." His smirk only widened at England's bright red cheeks, biting his lip harder in an attempt to hold back the incriminating noises that threatened to leave his lips as more thoughts of what that strength could do to him flooded his brain. "Ah, it's my strength huh? I didn't put you down to be one to enjoy this sort of thing, Artie," he drawled, only to tighten his grip even more on Arthur as if to prove a point. 

"Sh-shut up," England muttered, hating and yet loving the way it was humiliating to admit it. It was so out of character for the both of them, this situation, even more so than the calm afternoon they'd had, but that only made it all the more exciting. Arthur got to see a side of Alfred that not many would ever see, and he wasn't sure how much more of this perfect scenario he could take before it broke him mentally. He'd been with other countries before. Of course he had, France mostly. But none of them compared anything to this moment, despite it only just starting. It was dark, cold and almost scary, and it only served to do the opposite of what it should. The threat of America's strength and the promise of being belittled made him feel so much more intrigued and turned on than anything he'd ever experienced. In all honesty, that was the only reason him and Germany had ever done this, but that was all hidden in a drunken haze that even he couldn't unravel. 

"God damnit Arthur, you're thinking again," Alfred growled, smirk fading into a frown as he let go, England whining softly at the loss of the pain and contact. "Are you that easily distracted?"

Arthur slowly sat up, flexing his aching wrists slowly before gently holding Alfred's face. "I'm sorry, th-this is just so... Different... I d-don't really have any control," he admitted, avoiding those blue eyes. "But you know, if y-you want me to stop thinking, y-you'll have to make me," he was relieved when the smirk returned, the other country regaining all his confidence and self-assured aura. 

"Challenge accepted," was muttered into the air before America's lips planted themselves on his neck, kissing, sucking, licking and doing things so sinful that England couldn't help but moan in ecstasy. He found it odd how that alone made him fall apart but before he could actually process that thought, he felt teeth slowly dig into his skin, causing him to lose his train of thought and cry out.

He didn't even have time to be embarrassed by his outburst before those teeth had moved along to another patch of skin, doing the same thing. It wasn't long before England was sure he had a necklace of bite marks along his neck, but the pleasure had been so great that he didn't even think anymore of it, simply that it was a little possessive which made him a lot hotter.

"Finished thinking yet?" America asked, voice an octave lower and much huskier than he remembered, hands back to his aching wrists and squeezing just enough to send sharp bouts of pain through his nerves. In response, Arthur simply moaned incoherently and arched his back up, searching for more bodily contact than he was getting. "Good answer,"

Alfred let go of his wrists once more to sit back on his knees and slowly slid Arthur's unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. He then proceeded to kiss his way down the smaller's chest to his trousers, smirking up at the other when he reached his destination. It was worth it, looking up to see England's face painted a pretty pink, his eyes wide and filled with lust. Deciding he'd like to tease him a little more, America slowly pulled the zip down with his teeth, grazing against the other's clothed erection luxuriously.

"A-ahh y-you...bloody t-tease..." Arthur painted out softly, hips bucking up slightly, searching for more friction. He realised that was a bad (or great, depending on how his thoughts swung) idea, as hands tightly clamped down on his hips, not even exerting half of the taller's immense strength, and held them in place on the bed. Any more complaints England had left his mind, the show of power rendering him overly submissive.

Acting as though nothing happened, the blue eyed nation continued, using one hand to take his trousers off, which were soon followed by his boxers. England couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed before a hand wrapped around his arousal and began to slowly stroke him. He hadn't felt so good from a simple handjob in decades.

With all the stroking and the lewd looks Arthur was receiving, it wasn't long before he felt that familiar heat pool in his lower stomach, all too soon and yet it was taking too long. "A-Alfred...!" He moaned out, back arching off the bed in an almost feline manner as he reached completion, his cum spurting out onto America's hand and his stomach. The blush on his face could only be rivaled by one of Spain's tomatoes, hands flying up to cover it in embarrassment.

He received a low chuckle from America, who used his clean hand to move England's hands away, forcing him to watch as he licked his dirty hand clean. That just made everything worse, and he cried out in annoyance. "Wh-what the b-bloody hell?!" He said in a poor attempt at screaming at him, glaring half-heartedly.

It took a few moments before America smirked, leaning in and without a word, kissing him deeply. It sent England's mind numb, and he gasped, giving the other an opportunity to slide his tongue in. It didn't last long before America moved away completely, leaving him confused. "Well we need lube, right?" He smirked, winking as he opened a drawer and waved a small plastic bottle in England's view. "Unless you want me to go in dry. I ain't gonna kink shame you,"

"N-no, lube is good..." Arthur muttered, watching him slink back to the bed and kneel between his knees. He held his breath, watching as the other nation popped open the cap and squeezed more than enough onto his fingers, warming it up.

"Hmm...and what about a condom?" Alfred asked, head tilted slightly as he implored. "If it's not necessary, I don't want to have to use one. I promise I have no STIs," again, he winked at the Brit, getting into a comfortable position as he gently traced a lubed up finger around his anus.

With a short gasp, England grabbed onto the bedsheets tightly, shaking his head. "I-I'd prefer it... If y-you didn't..." He answered, legs subconsciously spreading wider in offering to the explorative touching.

"Good good," America almost growled, finger pushing in roughly, not needing much force as it slid into the tight heat, curling upwards slightly. It felt much to good, more so now that he had already cum once, and Arthur couldn't stop himself from letting out a soft whine at the intrusion. Before long, the finger was steadily moving in and out of him, working his entrance open wider and wider, the finger pressing against his walls in search of that one spot that would make him see stars.

All too quickly, a second finger was added, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his spine, but it only served to make him whimper in more pleasure, the pain converting to pleasurable heat almost as soon as it was instigated. And although he was often accused of not being able to read the atmosphere, America noticed how much of a masochist the country under his control at the moment was. It made him perversely happy, and he began to scissor those fingers despite knowing it was too soon to begin doing that. The response he received made him chuckle darkly.

"You like pain don't you? Does the thought of what I could do to you with my strength turn you on, Arthur?" He whispered into said country's ear, pushing his fingers hard up into the other and smirking widely when a gasp mixed with a moan created a suspiciously squeaky noise of pleasure. With his free hand, he pressed his thumb into the country's right hip, hard enough to bruise on a country. Had he been human, his bone would've most likely cracked under the pressure.

Panting softly, England bit into his hand to keep himself from whimpering again, avoiding that sky blue gaze for all he was worth. He didn't grace that with a legible answer, especially since he knew Alfred was just humiliating him. Instead, he gave the other a pleading look, begging for more without saying anything.

A third finger was roughly thrust in, in response to Arthur's pleading, stretching him wider than he should be at this point. Within only three thrusts, a fourth finger was added, to torture the smaller nation. Arthur was in heaven, the pain so blissful that he could feel himself once again near release. He thought to warn the other, but lost that thought when a sharp spike of pleasure shot through his body like a drug, making him yelp in surprise.

"Haha, seems I found your sweet spot, honey," America gloated, not noticing the slip of his tongue at the pet name, rubbing his middle finger against that spot repeatedly, massaging it until Arthur became a puddle of pure pleasure on the sheets. "Are you close again already, Artie?"

"Y-yes oh g-god..." Arthur breathed out, a gasping and moaning mess under the American's actions. He came so close to his release when the fingers were harshly removed, and Alfred tightly gripped the base of his cock to prevent his orgasm. A soft whine slipped past his lips at the sudden empty feeling, eyes wide and confused at what was going on.

Alfred simply grinned, pressing harder into his hip as he tutted gently. "Now now Artie, I wanna have some fun too you know," he scolded almost childlike, moving away and quickly taking off his jeans and boxers. Arthur stared at the sight unabashedly, the mere sight of the other's erect manhood making him shudder in want. Alfred didn't fail to notice the Brit's staring and smirked before climbing between his legs.

Hoisting them upon his shoulders, America then took his time to lube up his erection, teasing the other and smirking more as he watched England's face go from lustful to annoyed in a few seconds. "A-Alfred stop teasing!" He ordered, pushing his hips forward slightly.

Still taking his time, Alfred slowly pushed the head of his cock against his entrance, tutting again. "So demanding, babe. It's a good thing I'm not in the mood to teach you a lesson," he explained, words falling on deaf ears as the simple thought of what was going to happen flooded Arthur's head with white noise. Digging his fingers tightly into soft thighs, Alfred pushed the rest of the way into the wet heat quickly, sheathing himself in the other to the hilt.

A short scream echoed around the room, the pain overwhelming the older nation and sending his mind reeling. America stopped for a moment, giving him a short moment to calm down before beginning to move in and out, forced by the tight grip of England's passage to be slow at first. It was a torturous pace for the both of them, but pretty soon he relaxed enough for Alfred to move a bit more fluidly.

Then it was absolute heaven. There was still the delicious ache, but the pure force behind each powerful thrust was too good to be true, the bed creaking under so much pressure as Arthur was thoroughly fucked into the mattress, his moans of ecstasy like music to the other's ears. He was already close when Alfred pounded right into his prostate, a loud scream of his name slipping past his lips and begging for it to be abused.

There was a sense of euphoria in the bedroom, America making sure to hit England's sweet spot with each hard thrust, speeding up a little in the process, fingers digging painfully into the skin of his thighs. Arthur was already covered in bruises, a way of remembering this time. They both knew it wouldn't be long before they finished, if the noises they were making indicated anything. With one particularly powerful thrust right into his prostate, England came with another loud scream, his ejaculate painting the both of them white.

Subsequently, the pressure around Alfred's cock increased ten fold as Arthur came, and with a few more rough (and slightly sloppy) thrusts, he too came inside the other. The mixtures of gasps, whines and moans that England made due to this was ridiculously adorable and at the same time, very hot. America made note both of how the other liked to be dominated and also that he was a very vocal bed partner as he slowly pulled out.

"Damn Arthur," he purred, leaning close to his red face, feeling his hot breath fan over him. "Worth waiting for?" Alfred didnt wait for an answer, pressing his lips against Arthur's red and plump ones almost gently when he heard a soft whimper. He smiled into the kiss, threading his fingers through damp straw-blonde hair slowly.

Meanwhile, Arthur's mind was racing, from pure happiness, embarrassment and shame. Yes, that was very much worth waiting for, and he was greatly ecstatic with the situation. However, the noises he made, and the pace at which this had gone was highly scandalous, and it made him flush a dark crimson, at least when he regained his rational mind.

The kiss ended all too soon, before America sat up on his knees and gave England a dazzling smile. "We should get cleaned up,"

* * *

Once they were both clean (all thanks to America, England could barely stand on his own), Arthur permitted the other to order them pizza, despite offering to cook. He receieved a blunt reminder that the building didn't need to be set on fire before he was gently placed on the sofa, wearing a very comfortable pair of fleece pyjamas. "Thanks love," he smiled up at Alfred, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It made him blush, to utter such words to the object of his affections after centuries of pretending to find him annoying, but it felt nice to be normal.

"No problem, anything for my damsel in distress," Alfred joked light heartedly, but had a sincere smile on his face that said the only joke was the name. If it were possible for Arthur to blush anymore then he most certainly did, lightly hitting the other nation square in the chest. "But in all honesty, Artie, I love you,"

Shoving him away, Arthur smiled back, curling up on the sofa to get comfortable, grabbing the TV remote and making himself at home.

"I love you more, Alfie."

**Author's Note:**

> So, um...
> 
> The ending is terrible. I hate it.
> 
> Oh well. 
> 
> Did I do good? 
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you liked it! ^ω^ 
> 
> Kudos are a well known cause of happiness so don't be stingy! (Only if you want to though, I ain't forcing you.)
> 
> Beaucoup d'amour!


End file.
